


Constant Change

by HurricanesWriting



Category: The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Dissociation, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, M/M, Panic Attacks, follows canon through TBM, its not as dark as im making it sound lol theres tons of, no spoilers for anything after that, read notes for more on that, were dealing with lityerses's and apollo's trauma in this one lads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:29:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27586790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HurricanesWriting/pseuds/HurricanesWriting
Summary: For a short lived mortal, a lot of things can change in three thousand five hundred twenty seven years.And apparently, for an immortal deity, a lot of things can change in five months and twelve days.
Relationships: Apollo & Lityerses (Percy Jackson), Apollo/Lityerses (Percy Jackson)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 65





	Constant Change

**Author's Note:**

> This breaks from canon after The Burning Maze. A big portion of this fic takes place after Apollo fully finishes his quest, but I haven't read The Tyrant's Tomb or The Tower of Nero, so it doesn't follow those. Any plot element I include post TBM is just something I thought would be fun

Lityerses owed the Waystation and it’s caretakers an unpayable debt, despite his eventual departure.

He could easily claim that his initial decision to stay was solely born from necessity. After all, he didn’t have anywhere else to go, and since the eight months after the incident in Omaha that he spent wandering homeless and isolated before joining Commodus, he wasn’t eager to return to such a situation. But that wasn’t it.

To say that the casual affection and relaxed care of the inhabitants of the Waystation was new to him would be an understatement. Hemithia’s words, her declaration that he was welcome to join their family, still echoed in the back of his mind. He didn’t understand it in the slightest, but part of him wanted to. He wanted to be a part of this new compassion.

Lityerses felt like he was floundering, though. He kept wondering what the catch was, what price he had to pay for this kindness, what metric was in place to measure whether or not he was worth the trouble. The people at the Waystation acted as if there was no such thing, but that was something he couldn’t wrap his head around.

“To stay useful is to stay alive.” The words he had lived by for so long were no longer applicable here. On one hand, he supposed that was an improvement; he no longer had to earn his right to live. On the other hand, that had been one of the last things holding him together, as sad as it was.

Lityerses knew that Midas, Commodus, and even Gaea were just using him and would toss him aside without a second thought if it suited them, but that fact was one of the last things he still understood in this world he revived in.

Everything was different.

The list of things he didn’t understand was endless. Cars were horrific enough for Lityerses to give up hope on the modern world all on their own. He hated them, the way they looked, the way they smelled, and dear gods, the way they sounded. Phones were a mystery to him. Even though Leo assured him that the way they’d malfunctioned when he’d had the chance to use one was just because he was a demigod, he didn’t think he could do any better even if he wasn’t. He felt incredibly stupid as Hemithia tried to explain the washing machine to him after she found him washing his spare clothes by hand from the bath.

He couldn’t go outside to escape either. There were no trees or grass, just steel and pavement. There streets were constantly occupied by people and cars and so much noise. Sometimes, the crew of the Waystation would go to a park, usually to help Georgina feel better, but they just felt mournful to Lityerses, sad little islands of nature, manicured to suit the urban environment that caged them.

But it was more than all that. The way people talked was different. This language still tied knots in his tongue and he couldn’t get through a conversation without forgetting some word. Clothing was different, stitched in shapes he never seen, woven into fabric that felt strange on his skin, and dyed in colors Lityerses hadn’t thought possible. The air smelled different, tinged with an acrid sort of undertone he’d never get used to. The sky looked different. Josephine promised him that the stars were still out there, but when he looked up at night, he only saw a few dozen where he once saw thousands.

Things sounded different; raucous, mechanical sounds were seemingly endless. The brick walls looked different. The food tasted different and he yearned for the dishes of his home. The weather was different. He’d had to deal with more snow in a year than he would have in his whole life in Phrygia.

Every waking moment, his senses experienced nothing but reminders that everything had changed. He could never forget it, never ignore it. His overwhelming reality stalked his every footstep. Each day put the frail threads still holding him together under more strain. In a building like the Waystation, ever shifting, he couldn’t even say for sure what room was down the hall.

And now, the way people treated him was different too. It started to eat at him.

Despite the care of Hemithea and Josephine, and friendliness from the rest of the Waystation, Lityerses started drifting apart. He spent most of his time in a daze, feeling mostly present on a good day. On the bad days, he felt so unreal and unimportant that he would linger, motionless, and let hours slip by unheeded without ever meaning to.

He remembered one such afternoon when walking felt both monumentally difficult and so very unimportant that he just stopped on the way to his room and slid down to sit against the wall right there in the hallway. Josephine eventually stumbled on him. She crouched down beside him, saying things he couldn’t remember anymore. She asked if he was dissociating, but he just blinked at her. He didn’t know what that word meant anyway.

Then she described it and he managed to agree with her.

Lityerses spent a lot of time on the roof in the gardens. He tended to the plants most of the time, occasionally laying down in one of the beds when that felt beyond him, making daisies pop up around his form. It helped. He also made a deliberate effort to talk to people, to keep up with the goings-on at the Waystation. That helped as well.

Still, it only helped so much.

Eventually, the only breaks he had from his perpetual daze would be to have aching, nerve wracking panic attacks. He went from feeling so unreal for so long, to everything feeling much too real all at once. He tried to tuck these episodes away in his room where they wouldn’t be a bother, but it didn’t always work.

He was glad it was Hemithea who found him when he had a breakdown in the training room, falling to pieces just like the last set of dummies he’d cut his way through. He fumbled through a semi coherent account of what had been eating at his mind so much recently. He didn’t hesitate to switch to Phrygian when he couldn’t figure out what to say in English (which was often) because she understood most of it.

She asked his permission to touch him and even though he couldn’t stop a flinch, he allowed it. And so she sat next to him for a while, rubbing her hand up and down his arm, over all his scars, as he tried to stop hyperventilating.

It was after this that she first suggested he go to Camp Half-Blood.

She figured the environment there would be less stressful for him, less overwhelming. It was out of the city so there was more open space, not clogged with cement and brick and steel. There weren’t any cars or sirens or loud events like the ones the mortals hosted in their section of the Waystation's building. There was a classically styled combat arena and amphitheater that he might feel more at home with.

Hemithia only had to say that they didn’t have any cars for him to be willing to try it.

In the end, Leo took a week off school to take him to the camp on Festus. Lityerses got the distinct impression that Leo didn’t mind his forced leave of absence in the slightest. They sped along the way, hoping to get to New York before the bad luck of demigods caught up with them.

They did quite well all things considered. Festus had to torch some harpies and Lityerses got in a fight with a hydra in Pennsylvania, but they pulled through fine. They arrived at Camp Half-Blood on the fourth morning.

They met with the centaur Chiron who made Lityerses shift in discomfort. He did his best to explain his situation to him. Leo chimed in to make side notes and little jokes that were largely unhelpful until he started to vouch for Lityerses despite his connection to Gaea and the Triumvirate. He felt both very grateful for and highly undeserving of the support. Especially when Chiron gracefully accepted Leo’s word and allowed him to stay.

Then Chiron gave him an odd look and asked him what was wrong. Lityerses couldn’t stop thinking that Chiron had trained Heracles, the one who had murdered him so long ago now. But the events of his death were something he tried extremely hard not to think about, so he did his best to smile and replied that it was nothing.

Leo insisted on sticking around long enough to give Lityerses a look around camp. He gave his tour in his usual spitfire manner, important details on top of personal anecdotes on top of basic information and Lityerses feared he wouldn’t remember any of it by the next morning.

Leo eventually ran out of steam as he described the usual antics of the nightly bonfire, looking down into the amphitheater. Lityerses took note of his unusually subdued mood and nudged him with an elbow and a few questioning words.

With a sigh, he looked back to the campers’ cabins. “I just hope no one gives you a hard time. I mean, I don’t think anybody will, but... You know, there’s always some pricks who think it’s their place to-” He broke off with a frustrated noise that Lityerses empathized with.

“I don’t know. I just hope this works out better for you, man.”

Lityerses swallowed thickly. He didn’t think he could really do much about any campers who weren't inclined to trust him, so he just said, “Yeah, I’ll just do my best. I  _ do _ like the look of this place,” he added, and it was true. “There’s actual grass and trees outside, so it’s already doing better than shitty Indianapolis.”

Leo snorted, well used to his continuous disdain for the urban environment that had become something of a running joke at the Waystation. “Yeah, it’s perfect for you, plant man,” he joked with a smile that was just a little bit sad.

“What is it?” Lityerses teased. “You gonna miss me?”

Leo’s smile turned devilish. “Of course I am! You really  _ lit _ up my life!” Lityerses rolled his eyes dramatically and shoved Leo with a groan. The son of Hephaestus straightened with a laugh, seeming to have regained his cheer. “Well, good luck.” He pulled a tin of breath mints from his tool belt and gave it to him and Lityerses wondered if it was an insult. “I better get going so Jo won’t chew me out for missing more school than I already have.”

From Festus’s back, Leo waved furiously at Camp Half-Blood. Lityerses watched the bronze beast until it’s gleaming hide faded from sight, swallowed by the gloomy New York weather. Then he returned his attention to the camp.

He had siblings here. He’d known that, but it was differ ent meeting them properly. He had two sisters, Miranda Gardiner and Billie Ng, although they told him there were a few more children of Demeter that would come to camp once summer began.

Despite his best efforts, Lityerses felt incredibly awkward around them, and they didn’t seem to know what to make of him either. They showed him their cabin though, carpeted with grass and supported by a live oak tree. The bunks were all in the same room, which made him a bit nervous.

Meg wasn’t there. She and Apollo were still on their quest to liberate the oracles. His pulse quickened whenever he thought about what they might be enduring.

Finally, at three in the morning, after staring at the ceiling for hours, Lityerses stood up quietly, grabbed his sword, and left the cabin.

A harpy swooped down at him as he wandered across the green. He drew his blade and made a blindingly quick pass at her. He didn’t aim to hit her but the swipe startled her and forced her back. She looked at him properly then, and seemed to realize that he was older and more experienced than the rest of the campers. Reluctantly, she flew away, back into the darkness.

Liyerses went down to the strawberry fields and sat down. He stared up at the sky for a time. There were more stars here than in Indianapolis, but still far fewer than he remembered. Eventually, he laid down in the dirt with a sigh and fell asleep.

When he woke in the early morning, all the plants around him had new fruit.

And so began his life at Camp Half-Blood. The routine didn’t take him too long to figure out. There were three meals at the dining pavilion everyday: breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He didn’t have to help cook any of them, which he appreciated. The food was delicious. A girl at the Hermes table looked frightened at how much he could put away, but he ignored her. Hemethia would rarely let them get meat, and he missed it.

The morning started with drills and training, which Lityerses appreciated. He didn’t find them very difficult, but it forced him to stretch out and actually wake up. The days ended with a bonfire that he was less sure of. He didn’t know the songs that everyone else sang raucously, and more than a dozen people singing at once made it hard to tell what they were saying.

He felt even worse when one camper shoved him a battered print out with a kind smile. He stayed silent as he stared over the unfamiliar characters in unfamiliar patterns that presumably spelled out the song lyrics. The same camper, a burly daughter of Hephaestus, asked him about it afterwards.

He snapped that he wasn’t illiterate, even though he knew he might as well be. No one used Phrygian now, and he’d had little luck decoding the English writing system. The girl, Nyssa, assured him that lots of demigods had dyslexia, so the camp was used to teaching people to read. His face burned with heat that didn’t come from the bonfire. He almost voiced a stinging rejection of her pity before he bit his tongue. Instead he just muttered, “I’ll keep it in mind.” Nyssa nodded hesitantly, then wandered away.

During the middle of the day, the camp offered a number of activities to do. Lityerses wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself when it came to those. He was a poor shot on the archery range. The pegasi in the stables didn’t trust him; few animals did at first. He didn’t really get the point of canoeing. The forge was alright, he might get more used to it in time.

He got roped into arts and crafts once, despite doing his best to avoid it. The nymph teaching suggested he just write a poem for something simple. It shocked him that she considered a poem something simple, but apparently the definition of poetry had loosened enormously over the years and it no longer mattered that he didn’t know the rules of hexameter or remember the proper epithets of the gods. She said it was just about writing feelings now.

He thought he was clever by writing in Phrygian, then was horrified to learn she could read it. She smiled and told him it was nice and he wanted to melt into the ground.

It didn’t surprise him that he spent a lot of his time in the strawberry fields in the end. Even though he wasn’t nearly as good at controlling plants with his powers as Meg, tending to crops was something he knew well. He often helped work on the wheat farms before his death.

He’d made a bloody contest out of harvesting, reaping, back then. Midas enjoyed having an easy way to dispose of “unfavorable” people and to ensure that everyone else had a healthy fear of him. He tried not to linger on those memories. That wasn’t what he wanted to focus on anymore.

Strawberry plants didn’t have to be cut down to be harvested, which he appreciated. Just remove the ripe fruit and leave everything else to grow. Strawberries were new to him, but he figured out the new plant quickly enough and enjoyed the labor involved in tending to them.

When he wasn’t in the fields, he occupied his time in the combat arena. Ever since leaving the Triumvirate, with more time and less pressure, Lityerses had put a great deal of effort into balancing out his sword style. He made sure not to let his blinding speed deteriorate, but he began to focus on defensive maneuvers he’d been neglecting until then. He’d already made some improvement before coming to camp if he could be so bold as to brag.

Ares’ son, Sherman Yang, was the first one interested in sparring with him. Sherman was an intelligent and talented fighter, albeit with less experience than him. Lityerses had won each of their matches so far, but Sherman didn’t seem too bothered by it. He’d had him working hard to keep up on several occasions. Lityerses had already figured out a few elements of his style that he was working on combining with his own.

At first, he refrained from giving Sherman any advice of his own. Lityerses was in no way new to swordplay, but he  _ was _ new to camp, and he didn’t want to be presumptuous. After a few days of a few bouts, though, he cautiously suggested a change to Sherman’s posture that would let him put more weight behind his swings. There was a tense moment where he simply stared at him, but then he took up his stance and asked if that looked closer.

After that, Sherman asked about a move Lityerses had done a few times that he couldn’t figure out. Trying not to grin, he readily demonstrated the move step by step and guided Sherman as he recreated it. Swordplay was a passion of his and he relished in the chance to talk about it at length with someone who was also interested.

About a week later, Lityerses sat at the side of the arena, doing some maintenance on some of Camp Half-Blood’s training weapons that were worse for wear. As he worked, he watched Sherman spar with Malcolm Pace. The son of Athena fought well, if a bit too stiffly in his opinion.

Sherman disarmed Malcolm and they started arguing after Malcolm declared the move was too sloppy to rely on and Sherman was just lucky he got it to work that time. Lityerses started to tune out their bickering until Sherman shouted that combining moves can always look sloppy even when they’re executed just right, then suddenly turned to him and added, “Right Lityerses?!”

Lityerses blinked in surprise for a moment. Despite initial reluctance to get involved in the argument, he cautiously agreed with Sherman. He tried to be more constructive, though, by suggesting a few alterations Malcolm could add to his combos to be less predictable.

Malcolm glared at him and snapped, “I don’t remember when I asked for  _ your _ opinion.”

Holding up his hands mildly, he answered, “Then, by all means, ignore me,” and picked up the next sword he needed to polish.

When the pair started up again, though, he saw him try out a few of the moves he’d mentioned. He guessed a child of Athena was just too curious to resist. They all worked pretty well; he stood his ground much better this time.

He wore a distinctly sheepish expression by the end. With the tips of his ears flushed red, he briskly asked Lityerses to clarify one of the comments he made earlier. He elaborated and, in the interest of being fair, pointed out a few mistakes Sherman had made too.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was when Chiron eventually suggested he take an official position as a sword trainer at the camp. He almost refused purely out of instinct, but when he thought about it harder, he couldn’t think of a good reason to. He enjoyed it, and even though he would have dismissed himself as not nearly good enough before, it hadn’t been all that difficult so far.

In the end he agreed to train small groups of more advanced campers that wanted to refine their sword skills. It didn’t change much at the time, he was already casually working with everyone that fit that description, but Chiron promised there would be a lot more interested campers once summer came.

He was right. The sudden influx of people left him reeling for the first week or so. He’d mostly gotten used to the small group of year-round campers and they were pretty much used to him. Being suddenly surrounded by new people was admittedly intimidating.

When Chiron offered, Lityerses decided to move into a bedroom in the Big House since he was technically a “staff member”. Sleeping in the Demeter cabin had never gotten completely comfortable, especially now that there were more, less familiar campers, so he didn’t mind the change.

The room was small and simple, but Lityerses liked it. It felt like something he could make his own, a little home for himself. He opened the window at night so he could hear the crickets as he slept. He put a big flower pot on the dresser, and even though he only put begonia seeds in it, a small sunflower sprouted as well. He suspected it responded to the subtle influence of his presence as Demeter’s son.

It all helped give him more breathing room. There were more kids now than Lityerses had ever been around in his entire life. Although, many of the camp’s older members came back for the summer as well, which was refreshing. Not all of them were receptive to his presence, though.

Some of the returning campers didn’t like that he’d only gotten there a few months ago and had already become an instructor. It certainly didn’t help when they discovered that Gaea had let him through the Doors of Death and that he’d served the Triumvirate after that. A lot of people joined his lessons when summer started, but Lityerses quickly realized that a few were using it as a chance to get at him, eager to add some scars to his collection. He’d helped forces that hurt them, and they wanted revenge.

Before, he would have demanded they stop playing coy and meet him with a sharpened blade in a real match if they were so eager to hurt him. The thought still tempted him. Instead, he first tried to treat them as if nothing was amiss, as if he didn’t notice the distrust and aggression from them. He offered them the same instruction as everyone else and defended himself carefully when they threw themselves at him while sparing.

The hostility of some of the demigods faded quickly enough as they seemed to accept that he wasn’t doing any harm or treating anyone cruelly, which was what Lityerses had hoped for. It was only some of them, though. What he didn’t count on was the support of the year-round campers.

The Nike twins, Holly and Laurel, chased off a Hermes kid they found sabotaging one of the training dummies he used. The kid carefully denied any intention to mess with Lityerses’s lesson, but the Holly and Laurel seized the chance to accusing him of cheating instead and berrateded him viciously for it. They asserted that he had no place in the combat arena and shouldn’t come back until he actually cared about  _ truly winning. _

Malcolm Pace told off one of his siblings after a spat in one lesson. She adamantly refused to change the way she was holding her sword when Lityerses told her to. He explained that it could hurt someone if she fumbled her grip like that, (he already had a welt on his arm from it) but she insisted he didn’t know what he was talking about. He snapped that he didn’t care if she wanted to stay a third rate swordswoman, but he damn well wouldn’t let her risk hurting everyone else to do it.

Face bright red, she shouted that he wasn’t good for anything  _ but _ teaching third rate sword skills, gesturing with her sword until Malcolm suddenly grabbed the blunted blade and pulled it out of her hand with a rough twist. She yelped and rubbed her wrist. Malcolm snapped, “See? You’re not just risking everyone else, you could break your own wrist holding your sword like that! You’re a child of Athena, you should know that one of the best ways to learn is to listen to people with more experience. You don’t help anyone by refusing to acknowledge you did something wrong!”

She looked ready to cry, but didn’t argue anymore. With a sigh, Lityerses ended the lesson for the day. He wondered if a sword with a thinner grip might help.

Through all this, pretty much all of the campers who wanted a go at him mellowed out. Some left his classes; they still clearly didn’t like him, but he didn’t mind. Some others stayed to participate more seriously which pleased him. Only one camper refused to back down.

A demigod from the Hephaestus cabin came outright and confronted him with fury and demanded a proper match. Lityerses told him that nothing would change it he won; he wouldn’t leave camp or stop teaching. He insisted anyway. Lityerses accepted.

Before, he would have been at a significant disadvantage against an opponent he didn’t want to hurt. He ended his battles with blood and death, no half earned victories from a yielding enemy. But he’d grown since then. His sword style was no longer so lopsided and lethal. More than that, though, was that he recognized how much pain he’d caused in his past and refused to needlessly cause any more.

He disarmed the son of Hephaestus, sending celestial bronze skittering across the floor of the arena. “You don’t have to like me. But I have a right to be here and I’ll fight for that,” he declared. The demigod stalked away with a scowl but he didn’t challenge him again.

The atmosphere of Camp Half-Blood during the summer was certainly different, but after the initial struggles, Lityerses found his place in it without too much trouble.

Apollo completed his quest in the middle of June, not that they knew it at first. The end of his path laid at Delphi, thousands of miles away from them. No, they didn’t know that Apollo had succeeded in killing Python until he appeared at camp, fully divine, with Meg McCaffrey in tow.

The camp went berserk. Even the demigods who had never encountered Apollo during his quest, which was a vast majority of them, had heard numerous tales of the things that had happened since he became mortal. When Lityerses compared some of the things he’d heard with what he’d actually experienced while playing a brief role in Apollo’s quest, he felt safe assuming everything had been wildly exaggerated.

It took a long time for everyone to calm down enough for Apollo to explain the situation. Apparently, he had just left Olympus where the decision was made for Apollo to regain his full godhood and, for the time being, replace Dionysus as the camp director.

This caused a great deal of havoc from the crowd, although, all Lityerses could think was that Apollo would certainly make a better director given that, since he got here, Dionysus had not shown up, once. He could tell that the campers who’d actually met him had some far stronger opinions about the god of wine.

Chiron eventually convinced the campers to disperse with the promise that they would announce more at dinner and that, as long as he agreed to, Apollo would explain more of what happened at the bonfire. He shifted his weight but agreed with a breezy smile. The kids finally wandered away reluctantly, gossiping as they went.

It was just by chance that Meg noticed him before he returned to the strawberry fields. She cocked her head and looked at him in a way that made him feel like a plant that had sprouted in the wrong garden. Before he could do anything, she kicked Apollo’s shin and he looked at him as well.

Lityerses decided he might as well go over.

Meg punched his arm once he was in range and he just barely controlled his reflexes enough to not jump back. “Whatcha doing here?” she said at the same time Apollo asked, “When did you get to Camp Half-Blood?” with a startled voice.

“It’s kind of complicated,” Lityerses started, “but I couldn’t adjust to everything at the Waystation. I came here to try something else. I could explain it better later.” He looked between them and quickly added, “-If you’re interested.” He wasn’t entitled to their time.

“You like it here?” Meg asked simply.

“Yeah, it’s nice.”

“Cool,” she declared, her gaze drifting to the groups of people that had formed after being sent off, distracted by the sheer number of people now living at Camp Half-Blood.

“I’m glad you like being at camp,” Apollo said, his surprised expression fading into a smile so genuine that his chest tightened in response. Apollo commented that he looked good, then quickly added that he looked healthier and less stressed than before, then backtracked again to quip that they had both established that they were always good looking.

Lityerses had to choke down his embarrassment upon hearing that Apollo remembered the comment he’d made at the Waystation, but then he figured that if he was fine joking about it, then it probably wasn’t that bad.

Meg interjected with a “Hey,” and pointed to where Chiron was beckoning them, part of the way to the Big House. Apollo offered a hasty goodbye before going off after him.

Lityerses wandered down to the strawberries, not sure what to think.

The bonfire that night was memorable. Apollo started his retelling from the beginning, with his quest right here in Camp Half-Blood. Lityerses had heard many of the year-round campers talk about what happened, since they experienced it first hand, but he listened to Apollo with rapt attention anyway. He couldn’t deny his interest in the events that led up to Indianapolis.

When Apollo reached Commodus and the quest for Trophonius’s Oracle, he wasn’t kind enough to leave him out. At the first mention of his name, at least half the amphitheater turned to look at him and he had to fight not to smother his face in his arms. From the row behind him, Billie Ng snorted and kicked him in the back. He scrunched up his face at her and threw a rude gesture her way, or at least, it’d been a rude gesture back in Phrygia.

He tried to ignore everyone and stay calm as Apollo continued through that section of his story. When he explained how Lityerses baited Commodus into falling through the rose window, though, exaggerating  _ far more _ than he found acceptable, someone whistled loudly and laughed. He couldn’t help but bury his face in his hands as more people laughed for a moment. When he managed to look up again, he caught Apollo’s eye for a split second before the god moved his focus elsewhere.

He sighed in relief when Apollo moved on to his journey through the Labyrinth. He found his embarrassment fading as he was caught up in the story. And Lityerses wasn’t the only one invested. The colors of the bonfire changed to suit the mood of the story, following the emotions of the crowd. The fire went dark, eerie violet when he retold the death of Jason Grace. Lityerses remembered him from their brief spat in Omaha. He didn’t know him, but he was young, and that alone made his death sad.

However, just as it had always been, no prophecy stops for tragedy.

Apollo continued and he realized that this reminded him of the orators he heard at festivals and athletic competitions in his past life. He always loved listening to them and even though he could tell Apollo told a significantly abbreviated version of his journey, his recounting was just as compelling. Although, those old orators didn’t have Meg McCaffrey cutting in whenever they embellished too much.

His tone shifted somewhat as he closed in on the end of his tale, however. Lityerses reasoned that he hadn’t had as much time to process the more recent events. Even now that he was a god again, Apollo’s expression went guarded as he described his final confrontation with Python. His details were sparse and his inflection terse. Meg fiddled with the hem of her dress without interrupting. The fire flickered a dark, greyish green.

Apollo made a noticeable effort to reclaim his former energy when he concluded with their victory and their rewards from Olympus. The crowd cheered and clapped, although the bonfire didn’t quite return to the size it was before.

The narration concluded far later than their usual bonfire activities did. Chiron declared that the campers had fifteen minutes to get to their cabins before the curfew started. Despite some grumbling, the campers began to disperse. Lityerses was in no hurry. The harpies had long since stopped trying to punish him for breaking curfew.

He wandered slowly around the seats, finding a few candy wrappers to throw away. Apollo and Meg talked quietly at the base of the stage for a time until Meg climbed up the steps and walked presumably towards the Demeter cabin, throwing a glance over her shoulder. Apollo smiled encouragingly at her. Then, to Lityerses’s surprise, he got up and made his way over to him.

Apollo sat on one of the benches and he took the cue to sit next to him. “Sometime soon, you’ll have to have to tell me all about what’s happened to you since we left the Waystation. I’m interested to know how you ended up here.” Apollo said lightly. Lityerses blinked at him in surprise. He didn’t expect him to actually want to hear what he’d been up to.

“Yeah, I can tell you about it,” he replied, “even if it won’t be anywhere near as dramatic or gripping as your story.”

Apollo laughed and Lityerses thought of the sound of a wind chime. “For your sake, I certainly hope it isn’t.” The god grinned, but Lityerses just hummed his agreement with a small frown. He would never envy Apollo for the grueling trials he’d endured.

He studied his face now in the light of the bonfire. His cheekbones were softly defined and the curl of his lips was graceful. He looked older than the sixteen he appeared to be as Lester. His features were more mature. He saw some similarities, though, especially in the somewhat long proportions of his face. His nose had the same curve at the center of the bridge.

His hair seemed the same color as well, although looser waves had replaced tighter curls. It was longer now, ending midway down his neck. The hair at his temples had been pulled back until it met in a simple knot behind his head. His blue eyes reflected a distinctly inhuman, golden color in the shifting light.

His skin was smooth and clear, free of it’s prior acne. Lityerses honestly didn’t understand why some people insisted it was unattractive. Although, when he had some a few years ago (or, actually, around three thousand five hundred years ago) he remembered it hurt sometimes, especially when he accidentally scratched his fingers over a spot he forgot about. Maybe that’s why Apollo had forgone it.

Apollo blinked at him and asked, “Is something wrong?”

Lityerses shook his head. “No, it’s nothing. I’m just glad you made it back from your quest in one piece.” He glanced at Chiron, who was approaching them from the side.

Apollo relaxed some. “You and me both.”

“Not to interrupt,” Chiron began politely, “but do you plan to stay in the Apollo cabin?”

Apollo opened his mouth, then shut it. “I hadn’t thought about it. I did before, but...” He gazed at the waning fire. “It feels different now. I imagine it’s also a lot more full now that it’s summer...” He pressed his knuckles to his lips idly.

“You’re more than welcome to stay at the Big House if you’d prefer. That’s typically where Dionysus would stay.”

Apollo managed to refocus on Chiron and said, “Ah that would probably be for the best.” Lityerses thought his smile looked a touch strained.

“The bedrooms are on the east side, then,” Chiron informed. “Lityerses can point you to them. Now get some rest; you more than deserve some after everything you’ve been through.” The centaur left the amphitheater, white tail swishing behind him.

“I wish I could say he was wrong,” Apollo sighed, eyes shut. “I’m exhausted.”

Lityerses stood up and offered a hand. After looking at it for a moment, Apollo took it and he pulled him up. “Let’s go then. I’ve been staying in the Big House too.” They walked quietly to the baby blue building.

Lityerses led him to the hallway with the bedrooms. He pointed out the last door on the right. “I’m in that one.” Then he looked at the first door on the left. “I think this is the biggest room, but- Well, I think that’s where Dionysus stayed before.

Apollo opened the door. Lityerses leaned around him to peek inside curiously.

The room was maybe twice the size of his, but it had the same simple style of furniture. The bed was made with plain white sheets and the surfaces were bare. If Dionysus kept any personal belongings here, he’d already cleared them out. “This will work fine,” Apollo said.

“Cool. Go get some sleep then, you need it.” His lips twitched. “I was about to tell you to sleep in, but I’m not sure you’re allowed.”

Apollo walked in and pulled open the drawers to check that they were empty. “It’s complicated. I have to drive the Sun Chariot at dawn, but as a god, I can manifest in multiple places. Even as I do that, I can-” He broke off with a wide yawn. “Well, it’s not important. I catch your meaning; I’ll get as much rest as I can,” he said with a smile.

Lityerses smiled back. “‘Night then.” Apollo returned the courtesy as he went to his own room. He flopped onto his bed, exhausted as well, though he couldn’t say why.

The next morning he noticed a small, new sprout in his begonia pot that he recognized as another sunflower. He scowled at it; he wasn’t trying to grow sunflowers. He left the sprout where it was though.

For breakfast, he sat down with Miranda Gardiner who was currently explaining the Demeter cabin’s summer routine to Meg. Apollo came up just as Lityerses was finishing his omelette. Today, his hair was vibrant blond in shorter, wild curls. He looked ruffled as he sat down next to Meg, and Lityerses was tempted to muss up his hair just for fun. His eyes were a warm, dark brown, pleasant and beautiful.  


“Did you get settled in alright last night?” he asked Meg.

She stared at him for a few moments, then looked away without comment. “Yeah, last night was good,” she answered simply, kicking her legs through the air where they hung off the bench.

“I’m glad to hear it.” One of the nymphs handed Apollo a plate of food and he groaned. “Oh, bacon. It’s been too long. I almost forgot, I need to write an ode to the wonders of bacon.”

Lityerses coughed. “You’re gonna make a song about bacon?”

“Mmph,” Apollo managed, covering his mouth with his hand. He swallowed, then stated, “Bacon is good.”

Lityerses snorted.

Three days later it was Saturday, and Apollo insisted on hearing out Lityerses’s tale. He led the god to the eastern edge of the strawberry fields, settling in the grass. Apollo sat beside him, looking at him patiently.

Lityerses might have mistaken him as a mortal if he didn’t know any better. Nothing caught his eye as not quite human, like hair that shone in even the dimmest lighting, irises that shifted like a cat’s eye gems, or tiny flecks of light dusted like freckles across his cheeks that Lityerses only noticed once night fell. As a god, Apollo could look however he wanted, and today he’d chosen wavy, light brown hair, curling outwards where it ended near his jaw. His eyes were hazel, sort of green near the edge, more brown further in.

Lityerses told Apollo more about the difficulties he’d faced after he saved him for Commodus than he’d shared with anyone else. Apollo had lived through and remembered the same ancient culture Lityerses was born into, and he found himself more willing to talk about his sense of displacement. Apollo nodded empathetically as he described the things he missed so intensely, now rubble in an unreachable past. Even Hemithea, who was also born in ancient times, lived five centuries after his death on an island hundreds of miles away from Phrygia.

Apollo was a good listener. He watched attentively and didn’t complain when Lityerses used his native tongue to talk about long lost things there were no longer words for. His brows furrowed in earnest concern as he described dissociation and panic attacks and how he felt in those last few weeks at the Waystation.

“I can understand why it rattled you so much,” Apollo commented when Lityerses paused. “Everything that’s changed still catches me off guard, even when I’ve lived through all of it. To be dropped into the modern world when you lived more than three thousand years ago without experiencing any of the time in between... That sounds more overwhelming than I can imagine.”

“More overwhelming than I could deal with, for sure,” Lityerses agreed sadly. “Everyone at the Waystation was great, definitely much better to me than I deserved. I care about them and I owe them all a lot, but that place in that city... I couldn’t bear it anymore.”

Apollo hummed and touched his hand gently. Lityerses twitched but didn’t pull back. His touch felt like the warmth of sunlight after stepping out from under cool shade.

He felt a bit better talking about what had happened since he came to camp; less like he was bringing down the mood. The news that he was doing sword training excited Apollo much more than he expected. He primly stated that since he was now the camp director, he needed to pay attention to all the important happenings. He grinned and declared his intention to sit in on some of Lityerses’s lessons. He hoped he didn’t look too nervous.

“I’ve been thinking about instructing some music lessons here,” Apollo mentioned and Lityerses blinked in surprise. “It would be a shame not to share some of my expertise now that I’m here.” A small, soft smile appeared on his face. “Besides, I promised Meg I’d teach her to play the piano, so it might be nice to get other campers involved too.”

“Do we have a piano here?” Lityerses wondered aloud.

Apollo’s smile turned into a smirk. “If we don’t, I can certainly acquire one.”

“Then maybe I’ll have to watch some of your lessons as well.”

He clasped his hands together enthusiastically. “Oh absolutely! I’d love to teach you some things! Hmm, you know, I could see you playing the cello,” he said delightedly and Liyerses regretted saying anything.

Regardless, he did go to the amphitheater to watch some of his lessons. For the first one, he had, in fact, acquired a piano from somewhere and had set it up at the amphitheater floor. He promised the anxious satyr who usually taught music that he could simply teleport the instrument inside the Big House once they were done.

There were maybe a dozen more instruments available as demigods started to filter in. Lityerses had trouble identifying most of them, but he thought he saw a flute, a trumpet, a guitar, and a violin. The only one he recognized from before he died was a lyre that Apollo himself picked up as he watched him from the far back seats.

Today, black bangs framed his face nicely. Lityerses had stolen his blueberry muffin at breakfast to see his nose scrunch up. The teal of his jacket looked good against his brown skin. He noticed the zipper was up, presumably to hide the orange of the camp shirt which, in Apollo’s words, was a crime and a travesty that not even a god could look good in. Lityerses disagreed with the last part, but he kept that thought to himself.

One of Apollo’s kids, Austin Lake, kept stealing glances at him as he tuned a large, four stringed instrument he needed to stand up to play. He apologized and looked away when Apollo noticed and asked if anything was wrong. Meg coughed from her place sprawled over the piano bench.

The lesson seemed to go quite well, even if Apollo got over excited at times. Lityerses enjoyed hearing him talk about an art he was clearly so passionate about, although he didn’t really understand any of it. He seemed very good at encouraging the campers, even when Lityerses’s keen eyes saw him wince at a particularly grating note.

He made it a habit to watch Apollo teach when his schedule allowed. He harassed Lityerses to join every time, and he did his best to refuse. He finally allowed the music god to push a cello onto him after one of the lessons. He glared fiercely at the strings, trying and failing to set his fingers in the right place as he mangled a scale. When he finally looked down, he realized he broke a lot of the bow hairs without meaning to.

Apollo did his best to give him pointers, but it didn’t do any good. After abusing the cello for maybe ten more minutes, he admitted that he just came to see Apollo relaxed and at peace in his element, and to hear his beautiful playing when he did demonstrations. Apollo’s blush made Lityerses flustered in turn.

He finally agreed to stop insisting Lityerses join his students when he threatened to toss him a practice sword and make him spar the next time he watched his lessons in the combat arena.

He  _ had _ started watching them, just as he’d promised. The first time he walked in as Lityerses was getting set up, his heart leapt up his throat. In an instant, he felt horribly scrutinized, recalling the stares of Midas and Commodus, judging if he was still more useful than his weight in gold, or how satisfying it’d be to kill him. Then Apollo greeted him with a “Good morning!” and a cheery wave and the feeling faded into nothing.

The first few times, he watched without much comment, smiling and telling him good job before heading on his way. It took a little while until he lingered after one lesson, waiting until he finished clearing the arena and then settled beside him on one of the benches. His eyes were black like the coffee Lityerses had come to love so much.

“You seem to be doing really well with all this,” Apollo observed. “How are you feeling about it?”

I don’t know...” he replied noncommittally, and Apollo looked askance at him. Lityerses sighed and rolled his head to one side then the other, frowning as he tried to collect his thoughts. “It’s just- I know I’ve always been rough around the edges. I refused to care about it before, but now... I’m trying to teach people now. I guess I just worry that I’m too crude and not elegant enough to be any good.”

Apollo tilted his head and hummed. “Well, maybe a little crude and maybe a little inelegant, but not in a way that keeps you from being good. For what it’s worth, I would’ve used the words ‘efficient’ and ‘direct’. Even then, a crude process can still refine something.

“To teach something well, communicating clearly is more important than anything else, I think.” Apollo’s expression went sheepish and he rubbed the back of his head. “When I first started teaching those music classes, I was a bit  _ too _ elegant. I got so caught up in waxing poetic about the music that no one could follow and everyone just ended up confused.”

“I enjoyed your little speeches,” Lityerses offered with a crooked smile.

Amusement shone through Apollo’s irritated expression. “Well, I’m flattered, but you were just there to watch; you weren’t trying to learn from me.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” he conceded. “I was bad, at first, when someone was trying to improve in some way and I would just tell them to practice. People got frustrated and I didn’t know why, because sometimes practicing over and over is really all you can do to get better.

“It took me a while to figure out that I was way too blunt about it, and it discouraged people. I try, now, to suggest how long to practice and how often, and what improvements they should expect to notice. I would never have guessed, but, even though I’m telling them to do the exact same thing, the way I say it matters.”

Apollo tossed his head back and laughed and Lityerses stared at him. “See? You don’t have anything to worry about! Really, you recognized what you were doing wrong and made sure that you fixed it. It takes a good teacher to do that. You’re doing great, I promise you.”

Lityerses flushed and pushed his hair back self consciously. “Thanks,” he murmured and Apollo beamed when he caught sight of the smile he couldn’t suppress.

Leo arrived in early July to spend a few weeks at camp. He blinked rapidly at Apollo when he first saw him, then hugged him dramatically and congratulated him for finishing his quest. When he decided to go back, Lityerses decided to go with him and stay at the Waystation for a while.

Apollo considered going with them, but in the end he decided that while all of the summer campers were still around, he probably shouldn’t. He sent them off with a carefully concealed look of sadness that Lityerses still noticed, and promises that he would come later in the year.

The Waystation looked just as he remembered, but it  _ felt _ much different. With time to adjust and heal, and with the knowledge that he had somewhere else to go, he no longer felt trapped within its walls. He felt happier and healthier, enough that the people around him noticed.

Josephine messed up his hair with a wide grin as he helped clean up dinner one night. He shoved her off with a huff but the gesture felt nice, even though he wouldn’t admit it. He talked with Hemithia as they tended to the gardens on the roof. Under the care of demigods, the plants grew produce all year round, but now, in the middle of summer, they were at their peak. Lityerses thanked her as well as he knew how for suggesting Camp Half-Blood as he plucked ripe tomatoes off their stems. Hemithia brushed him off with a smile and said she was just happy to see him looking so much better now.

Georgina handed him a simple book and he was pleased that he’d improved enough to read it to her, albeit haltingly. The griffin chick had grown a lot while he was gone, and he enjoyed keeping her entertained in the loft during the day.

Despite how nice it felt to be back for a while, when he decided to go back after two weeks, he was more than ready. It wasn’t that he wanted to leave the Waystation, it was that he missed camp more than he realized he would. He missed Apollo more than he realized he would, thoughts drifting to the god embarrassingly often.

At least, it was embarrassing until he got back. Apollo greeted him with such enthusiasm that Lityerses thought he might have felt a similar way. Long, brown curls tickled his face when Apollo hugged him.

Lityerses’s heart fluttered.

There were six sunflowers in the pot in his bedroom now, and he had come to just accept them. He managed to use his powers to move them into a more pleasing arrangement, at least, so they no longer looked like they’d just been thrown in with all the begonias. He moved the pot closer to the window to make sure they got enough light.

Lityerses sat next to Apollo as they watched the end of the summer fireworks show. He’d a few seen mortal fireworks before, mostly at random while he wandered, homeless, across the country. Apollo laughed at him as he gaped at the things the Hephaestus cabin had done with them. Meg was staring up at them and giggling madly, clearly thrilled at the display. And despite his teasing, Apollo watched attentively; he laughed brightly when one of the explosions formed an image of his return to Camp Half-Blood.

It was significantly quieter after the summer-only campers left, but it was nice. The remainder of them had more time to spend how they wanted. It was relaxed. Lityerses sought out Apollo often, and to his joy, it always seemed to please him.

The night Apollo kissed him for the first time, he looked the most like his mortal form, like Lester, that Lityerses had seen since his return. His curly hair was the same length and warm brown color. His eyes were the same mild blue, at least until they fluttered shut, just before he leaned in.

Lityerses hoped his patchwork of scars helped cover up how much he blushed when their lips finally met.

The next morning, Apollo’s hair gleamed like burnished bronze despite the cloudy sky out the window. It was much longer and filled with an intricate array of braids and coils that Lityerses guessed would have taken at least four hours if done by hand which, given the early hour and Apollo’s drowsy expression, he expected it wasn’t.

When Lityerses brushed his knuckles over his hand as he passed in a probably not-so-subtle move, the faint flush of sunlight certainly didn’t come through the window.

The god seemed quite content with relatively short hair for a week or so until one day, Liyerses found him dozing on the couch in the Big House. He guessed that his waves of gold hair would reach mid chest if he was upright. As it was, his hair was splayed artfully over the armrest.

Lityerses found it both very beautiful and very tempting to drape some of his hair over his upper lip like he had a mustache. He shook his head and made it as far as the doorway before turning around and sneaking back.

Not even daring to breathe, he delicately lifted a lock of hair, slowly, carefully bringing it closer to Apollo’s relaxed, unaware form. He lifted it so it wouldn’t touch his skin until he had it in just the right place. Finally, he elegantly laid the hair beneath his nose.

Then Apollo woke up with a sneeze and Lityerses darted from the room with a poorly stifled laugh.

He’d just made it out of the Big House when Apollo materialized directly in front of him with a glare. He couldn’t stop in time to avoid crashing right into him. Taking advantage of unbalancing him, Apollo stooped down and picked him up with no discernible effort, throwing him over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “And just what do you think you were doing?” he griped as he walked off with him.

“That was cheating! This is bullshit!” he declared instead of answering. He tried to squirm away, but Apollo’s hold around his midsection was too firm for him to escape. “If you let me down, I’ll tell you.” Apollo hummed. “I swear I will! Just put me down.”

Apollo stopped abruptly and slung him unceremoniously off his shoulder, though he took care to set him on his feet. Lityerses made a point to brush himself off. “Well?” Apollo said, looking at him expectantly.

Without a word, he snatched a lock of his hair again and lifted it up to his lip. Apollo stared at him like a deer in headlights for a moment until his nose wrinkled in sudden realization. He curled his lip so when Lityerses let go, the hair stayed there a few seconds before Apollo started laughing.

“You’re ridiculous!” he gasped as he kicked at his shoe and Lityerses was laughing too.

He wondered if Apollo had taken a page from his sister Artemis’s book when he wandered into the combat arena with long, thick, black hair pulled back into one, unusual looking braid. He was glad his lesson hadn’t started yet so he could demand Apollo turn around so he could look at it.

Each horizontal section was much thinner than he thought they could be, weaving back and forth to the base of his shoulder blades. Apollo laughed, “What? It’s just a fishtail braid-”

“Fish?!”

“-never seen one before?”

“No,” Lityerses admitted easily, “but it’s pretty.” Apollo promised to show him how to do it later, when they had time. He didn’t have any practical use for the knowledge, but he agreed anyway, curious how it was done. He watched him do it under warm lamplight in the Big House after the nightly bonfire. Apparently, his long fingers were just as dexterous braiding hair as they were drifting across piano keys or swiftly stringing a longbow.

The next day the single braid was replaced by many, all just as long. Each thin braid of black hair was woven with little golden beads that flashed dizzyingly in the light whenever he moved. The sunset left a pretty cast on his dark skin and Lityerses had trouble looking away.

Apollo complained he wasn’t appreciating the wonderful sunset he was putting so much work into. Lityerses argued that he wasn’t making the sunset pretty because he couldn’t control the clouds and everything and Apollo wailed in indignation.

“Look at that!” He grabbed his face and turned it to the horizon. “The sun. Setting. That’s  _ all _ me. ‘Clouds’ my ass. Sun set? You’re  _ welcome.” _ Lityerses laughed at his dramatics and Apollo let go with a huff. “Mortals these days, so ungrateful...”

When he caught Lityerses stealing another glance at him though, he didn’t seem interested in telling him off.

The autumn weather was crisp as Lityerses worked in the strawberry fields. Apollo had decided to entertain himself by pestering him for attention, even though he was trying to pick some of the last fruit from the summer season. He picked up his box and walked past Apollo to hear him shower him with compliments and as approached, and then complain loudly as he walked by to put his berries with the rest.

Lityerses bothered to get perhaps another hour of work done before he gave up and joined the god and the edge of the fields. Apollo grinned in triumph as he sat down next to him. Today his eyes were warm brown, matching the pretty shades of autumn. His hair was the color of honey and fell in tight curls to the middle of his neck.

“Your hair's pretty today,” Lityerses mentioned idly. Apollo gave a deep sigh and furrowed his brows at that. Lityerses blinked at him in surprise. “What is it?”

“You don’t-” Apollo started haltingly. “It doesn’t... bother you or anything?” He cocked his head curiously. “That I look different every day?”

“No,” he answered simply, but honestly. “Did you think it would?”

Apollo bit his lip. “I... It bothers other people. I’ve noticed when people look at me strange for it, even if they refuse to mention it.”

Lityerses had noticed that too, but not for quite a while. “Well, I don’t think that’s because it bothers them. I would bet that changing how you look a lot just catches some people off guard. It’s not something us mere mortals are capable of, you know?” He said it more as a joke, but Apollo just frowned and hummed quietly in response.

Concern rose in Lityerses’s chest. “Why? Was someone being rude about it?”

Apollo glanced over in surprise and quickly answered, “No, no, it’s nothing like that. I was just- thinking about some things.” Lityerses believed him. He could tell something was weighing heavily on him.

“Why do you like to change how you look every day?” Lityerses risked asking. Judging by the strained expression on Apollo’s face, he’d gotten close to the issue. He gazed off into the strawberries for a minute or two before speaking, but Lityerses waited patiently.

“Sometimes...” he said eventually, “I still wish that my father never made me mortal and sent me on that quest. It’s such a selfish thought, since I know I’m much better for it, but... everything was so much simpler before.” His eyes were distant and he fiddled with a little gold ring he wore on his pointer finger. “I don’t know who I’m supposed to be anymore.

“I never thought I’d stay attached to the feeling of mortality after everything, but... I did. All these things that are a part of me now, I experienced while I was mortal. And now, when I try to embrace my divinity and act like a god, it doesn’t feel right anymore. Like everything I was, my  _ nature, _ doesn’t match me anymore. It’s like... you’ve worn the same set of clothes for forever until you’re forced to wear something else for a while, but when you come back, your clothes don’t fit anymore.” He scrunched up his nose and muttered, “Oh that metaphor was gross, wasn’t it? Ignore that.”

“No, you’re fine,” Lityerses said gently. “Keep going, I’m following.” Apollo flashed him a fond and grateful look.

“I’m just not sure how to act like a god anymore. But when I spend my time acting like I’m just another mortal, it doesn’t feel right either. I’m  _ not. _ I’m a god, irrefutably, but... I don’t know what that means for me now. I don’t know how I’m supposed to fit in the world, if I’m an authority over it or if I’m just another part of it. Like a thread in a tapestry or a piece in a puzzle.”

Apollo twirled a lock of his hair between his fingers, staring at it despondently. “I’ve been trying to use my appearance to help figure out how I should be, but it hasn’t worked. Whenever I feel like what I’m doing doesn’t sit right, I figure I should just try something fully new, to restart. So every day, I make myself look completely different than the day before and every day I don’t feel any closer to understanding what I want from myself.

“I never thought I’d be envious of mortals who can’t change their form, but I am now, in a way. You don’t have to decide what you want everything to look like all the time because you can only control so much. I never thought I’d want it to be out of my hands like that, but I do. But it isn’t, and I have to look like  _ something, _ so everyday, I have to figure out what appearance gets the closest to feeling right, even though it  _ never does, _ and I just-!” He released a frustrated groan and dragged his hands through his hair.

Lityerses made a sympathetic noise and touched his shoulder.

“I know I can’t go back to the god I was before, that much is obvious. I was so arrogant, greedy, cruel, and impenitent, and I didn’t care about anything in the world that wasn’t me. I brought so much death and destruction and grief into the world, and I didn’t even care, much less take responsibility for it. I’ve learned too much to go back to that.” His voice was tense and his expression fierce, as if the notion alone enraged him.

“The gods have been too destructive for too long, and we need to change. I  _ know _ that, and I know I need to be a part of it. But I don’t know if I’m doing it right. When I act as a god, I feel like I’m just acting on old habits and failing all the people who taught me otherwise. But when I act like a mortal, I feel like I’m not doing everything I could be and that I’m ignoring all my responsibilities.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“I can’t go back to how I was as a god before, but I also can’t go back to how I was as Lester. I’m not a mortal anymore, and even if I could become one, I couldn’t absolve my responsibility as a god like that. I’m stuck somewhere in between and I don’t know what to do.

“I can’t tell if anything I contribute has value. So many people sacrificed so much for me on my quest, and I promised them I’d keep moving forward, but now I’m afraid that I’m just treading water. Nothing I do feels important- and not in that I feel like I should constantly be important, like I used to think, but that there are things I  _ need _ to do that are more important than myself that I’m failing at.”

Apollo blinked rapidly then blew off an ant climbing over his pant leg. “That was a lot. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so carried away.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you-” Lityerses paused. “I have something to say to this, but I want a minute to think.” Apollo looked at him in surprise, but nodded. He appreciated it. He wasn’t very good at this and he didn’t want to mess it up.

He set his fingertips against the ground, channeling the energy of his more scattered emotions into the earth, trying to clear his mind. Roots started pushing up towards the surface.

He spoke slowly. “My opinion is that value comes just from existing. Everyone- gods and mortals, I’d say, have an effect on the world, sort of pushing and pulling on things. It’s not really something you ‘contribute’, it’s just part of existing; you can’t stop it. And I think the way you act is still important, like, that’s what decides if your impact is good or bad in some way, but no matter how you act or what the impact is, the nature of your value doesn’t change.”

Lityerses sighed and rubbed over the scar across his neck. He felt both stressed that he wasn’t making sense, yet compelled to continue. “So... I was a shitty person for a long time. I hurt too many people and caused too much pain. I thought I didn’t deserve a place in the world anymore, that I had wasted too many chances and- what’s the phrase- burned too many bridges. But weren’t you the one who saved me?” He poked Apollo’s arm. He stared back at him, wide eyed, focused intently on his words.

“You decided I was still worth saving. Some part of you recognized that I was still valuable. And not like-  _ useful, _ like how I was used to being seen, as something to fulfill some purpose. Just that... my place in the world was still significant. You could trust me because, even though I’d done bad things, I could still use my effect on the world to do something better the next day.

“And I did. That time at the Waystation. Because you decided to rescue me from Commodus. And it took me a long time to really accept it, but, I still had value because I could still affect the world, and I could decide what that effect would be through my actions. Even though I’ve done terrible things in the past, it doesn’t change that fact in any way; my value still had the potential for anything. It works like that for everyone. You can still push and pull in the world in infinite ways, and, as long as you exist, nothing can take that away from you.”

A flower had broken through the dirt behind his hand, fed by his feelings. Lityerses spread his other palm on his lap and stared at it. “Did any of that make sense?” He flexed his fingers.

“It did...” Apollo answered with a thick voice and an unreadable expression. “Although, I’m not sure what to take from it.”

Lityerses sighed. “I guess I mean to say... I don’t think you need to worry about if each thing you’re doing is important or not. They all contribute to your push and pull. I don’t think it’s decided by if you’re acting more like a god or more like a mortal either. And even if something you do doesn’t have the impact you want, you should remember that you can always try again to affect the world how you want, regardless of how things went in the past.”

“That is... a nice way to see things,” Apollo said quietly.

“I hope it helps a little. It’s the best I got, since I can’t really tell you who you are.”

Apollo’s laugh was surprisingly bitter. “I could never expect you to, especially when I’m too much of a mess to figure it out myself.”

Lityerses leaned back in dismay. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he tried to say.

Apollo glanced at him, eyes wild and distressed. His breath hissed out. “I’m sorry, I know you didn’t. I just-” He stopped and rubbed his hands over his face. He stayed like that for a while, muscles tense.

Eventually, he lifted his head. Very haltingly, he said, “I don’t understand... how you  _ feel _ the way you do about me when I’m like this.” His long inhale shuddered. “I don’t know how you can love me when I can’t even figure out  _ who I am.” _

Care and concern squeezed his chest as Apollo deliberately avoided his gaze.

“Well... even when you don’t know who you are, that doesn’t mean you’re not  _ anyone.”  _ He shifted his hand around the flower he had grown, a white and yellow daffodil. “You  _ are _ someone. By necessity.” Before the embarrassment could sink in and stop him, he plucked the flower and swiftly tucked it behind Apollo’s ear. “And the someone that you are, even if you haven’t gotten him all figured out yet, is someone I love.”

Apollo’s lips parted in shock. Lityerses leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. He pulled back then yelped as he was blinded by a sudden light glowing from the sun god. Reeling back, he covered his eyes with a hand and squinted at him through the gaps of his fingers.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Apollo laughed, fanning a hand near his face rapidly. The light slowly faded and Lityerses lowered his hand. “I didn’t mean to blind you, I swear.” His voice still wavered, but there was a wide smile on his face now. He swiped a few tears off his cheeks. “You can’t be so romantic with me when I’m not ready for it,” he gasped. “My heart’s too tender.”

“Sorry,” Lityerses offered, grinning helplessly. Apollo pulled the daffodil forward and studied it with a look of deep fondness before putting it back behind his ear. He leaned onto Lityerses’s shoulder. His eyelashes were wet but he was also still glowing a little so he hoped he felt better.

“Thank you,” Apollo said. He found his hand and intertwined their fingers. “For hearing me out and for giving advice. It helped. I truly do appreciate it.”

“Any time,” he replied.

“And Lityerses?” He hummed questioningly. “I love you too.” Apollo beamed when he blushed bright. His heart fluttered at the sight.

Without thinking, he added “For what it’s worth, about the way you look, constant change is still  _ constant, _ right?” Apollo blinked at him. “If you don’t figure out one way you like to look, that’s fine. Can’t... ah, how do I say it-  _ fluidity _ be a characteristic?”

“I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

“Well, it’s whatever feels best to you in the end. Just something to think about.”

“You’ve given me plenty of somethings to think about today.” Apollo pointed out.

Liyerses laid back and looked at the sky. “Well, good thing I know all the best thinking comes while laying in the dirt.” Apollo scoffed dramatically, but he settled next to Lityerses, propped up on one elbow, humming a tune he would never remember the notes of, but he would always recall the feeling of.

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to make a note about Apollo’s appearance in this fic. I hope it comes through that no one is judging any features or traits to be better or more attractive than any others; not me, as the author, or Lityerses, or even Apollo. The way he changes his appearance has nothing to do with what he finds attractive, it’s a sort of manifestation of his troubles rediscovering who he is after his paradigm shift of a quest. Again, I hope that all came through in the writing, but I just wanted to make it perfectly clear here.  
> Also, if you disagree, and you think the way I described some appearance was insensitive or offensive in any way, please, please tell me. I want to hear your thoughts and learn from them.
> 
> Also, like I said, I haven't read The Tyrant's Tomb or The Tower of Nero yet, but I probably will at some point. Please don't intentionally spoil things in the comments. Otherwise, comments are very much appreciated!!!!!!!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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